Akio lay awake in the bed that wasn't his.
The ceiling above him was smooth and white, with no cracks for candle smoke to creep through.
The sheets were soft, almost unnervingly clean compared to the coarse blankets of his old dormitory.
Everything smelled faintly of detergent and metal, strange and sterile.
He had not slept. Not truly. His mind was a storm.
Images of Ukio's memories churned with his own:
The tower rooms of the magic academy, filled with whispers of his failure.
Ukio's small, trembling hands clutching a half-written note soaked with tears.
His own broken wand lying on the floor beside his lifeless body.
Ukio's empty bottle of poison, tipped on its side like a silent accusation.
Two kids, two deaths.
One body.
Akio pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the memories.
But silence only made them louder.
"Why me?" he whispered into the darkness.
"Why was I given another chance when Ukio never got one?"
No answer came. Only the faint hum of some strange machine in the wall.
A World That Moves Without Him
The next day, Akio drifted through school like a ghost.
He sat at a desk surrounded by chattering students, their laughter bubbling like a river he could never step into.
Their words blurred together—names, gossip, mundane problems.
So normal.
So alive.
Ukio's memories made every moment sharp.
This had been his place once. His desk, his seat, his chance to belong.
And they had ripped it away from him.
When the teacher called on him, Akio froze, heart pounding.
He barely understood the subject—these strange lessons about numbers and machines.
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
The class laughed softly, a wave of amusement rippling through the room.
The teacher sighed, muttering something about him needing to catch up after his "absence."
The leader of the bullies smirked from the back row, whispering to his friends.
Their laughter cut deeper than any blade.
Akio sat down again, his hands shaking.
This world might not have magic, but it had cruelty just the same.
Ukio's Empty Home
When school ended, Akio didn't go straight home.
He wandered the streets instead, letting the crowd sweep past him like water around a stone.
Strange signs blinked overhead, glowing with colors he didn't know the names of.
The metal beasts—cars, he'd learned—roared by endlessly.
In his old world, magic connected everything.
Here, the connection was wires and machines and noise.
He finally reached the small apartment that Ukio had called home.
The lights were still off.
Silent. Empty.
Akio closed the door behind him and leaned against it, the quiet pressing down on him like a weight.
He looked around at the cluttered room—books stacked on every surface, notebooks filled with half-written thoughts, food wrappers scattered on the floor.
Ukio had lived here, day after day, utterly alone.
The walls felt like they were holding their breath.
Akio sank to his knees, clutching his t-shirt.
"This is what it felt like for you, isn't it, Ukio? This... emptiness."
His tears dripped onto the dusty floor.
"No wonder you couldn't take it anymore."
The Letter That Changed Everything
As he wiped his face, his eyes fell on a crumpled paper tucked under a stack of books.
He pulled it free, smoothing it out.
It was a letter from Ukio's parents.
The words were short, almost cold:
Ukio,
We're worried about you. It's been weeks since we've seen you.
Please come home, even just for dinner. We... miss you.
Akio's throat tightened.
Ukio had never answered.
By the time this letter had arrived, he had already been planning to die.
He folded the paper carefully, clutching it to his heart.
"They still cared," he whispered. "Even when you thought they didn't."
And then an idea took hold—a terrifying, fragile idea.
What if he went to them?
What if... he wasn't completely alone?
The Walk Home
That evening, Akio walked to the address listed on the letter.
The streets grew quieter as he left the bright, bustling center of the city.
Soon, he was standing before a small house with a warm glow spilling from the windows.
His heart pounded so hard he thought it might break his ribs.
He had faced bullies, faced humiliation, even faced death.
But this—this was different.
These weren't his parents.
He had no right to call them family.
And yet... they were Ukio's parents.
And he had sworn to live for Ukio too.
He raised a trembling hand and knocked.
The Door Opens
The door swung open almost immediately.
A person stood there—middle-aged, with kind eyes and tired lines on her face.
For a moment, she just stared.
Then her hands flew to her mouth.
"Ukio!" she gasped, tears welling in her eyes.
"You... you came home!"
Before Akio could react, she pulled him into a tight embrace.
The warmth of her hug, the smell of cooking and soap—it all hit him at once.
He froze, every muscle locking in place.
No one had held him like this in years.
Not since before the bullying had consumed his old life.
Not since his parents had turned cold and distant.
His vision blurred.
Behind her, a figure appeared—the father.
His eyes widened, then softened with relief.
"Son," he said, his voice thick. "We've been so worried."
Akio couldn't breathe.
He couldn't speak.
These weren't his parents.
And yet, in this moment, they were everything he had ever wanted.
Dinner at the Table
They ushered him inside, talking over each other in their joy.
"Come in, come in! You must be hungry!"
"We made your favorite tonight, just in case you showed up."
The house smelled incredible.
Akio followed them to the dining table, his steps shaky.
When he saw the food laid out—warm rice, grilled fish, steaming soup—something inside him shattered.
Memories surged:
His old world dormitory, where he ate alone in silence while others laughed together.
Nights of going hungry because bullies had stolen his meals.
Ukio's final lonely dinners of instant noodles eaten in darkness.
This table was so simple.
So normal.
And yet, to Akio, it was a miracle.
Tears spilled down his face before he even realized he was crying.
The Breakdown
"Ukio?" his mother asked softly, concern etching her face.
"Are you... are you okay?"
Akio opened his mouth, but no words came.
Only a choked sob.
He fell to his knees beside the table, clutching the edge like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
"I'm sorry," he cried.
"I'm so sorry... I—I didn't mean to... to disappear..."
His voice broke entirely.
Tears streamed down his face, soaking the fabric of his uniform.
His mother rushed to his side, kneeling beside him.
She wrapped her arms around him, patting his head in a hug.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"You're home now. That's all that matters."
Akio clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder.
It didn't matter that these weren't his parents.
In this moment, he was a kid who had been unloved for far too long, finally hearing the words he had needed his whole life.
The Father's Words
When his sobs finally began to quiet, his father knelt beside them.
"Ukio," he said softly, his hand resting on Akio's trembling shoulder.
"You don't have to face everything alone.
We may not understand everything you've been through, but we love you.
We always will."
Akio's tears started anew.
He had waited his entire life to hear those words.
In his old world, they had never come.
Now, even if they were meant for someone else, they wrapped around his broken heart like a heart straight out of the stomach poured with warm blood.
"Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse.
"Thank you for... for loving me."
His parents exchanged a look—confused, worried—but they didn't question it.
They simply held him tighter.
A New Resolve
Later, as they all sat at the table together, Akio ate slowly, savoring every bite.
The flavors were simple but rich, filled with warmth.
His mother smiled through her own tears.
"It makes me so happy to see you eating again."
Akio swallowed hard.
He wanted to tell her the truth—that he wasn't her son, that the real Ukio was gone.
But he couldn't.
Instead, he vowed silently:
"I will live this life fully. For Ukio. For myself.
I won't waste this second chance."
Closing Scene
That night, back in Ukio's room, Akio sat by the window, looking out at the strange glowing city.
In the glass, his reflection wavered between two faces: his old self and Ukio's.
"I don't belong here," he murmured.
"But maybe... maybe I can make a place for myself."
Outside, somewhere in the darkness, the bullies were waiting.
The cruelty of the world had not vanished.
But now, Akio had something to fight for.
He touched his shirt, feeling the echo of his parents' embrace.
"For Ukio," he whispered. "And for me."
The screen faded to black as the credits rolled, the sound of distant laughter and warm clinking dishes lingering like a fragile dream.
TO BE CONTINUED...